


and while the moon drifts in the skies

by ednae



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: F/F, Tales of Secret Santa 2018, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 21:50:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17149706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ednae/pseuds/ednae
Summary: "The middle of the night is always the best time to build a snowman. There’s no one around to bug you, it’s so cold you can’t feel your face, the snow is still falling, what’s not to love?”Alisha bites her lip. “The ‘it’s so cold you can’t feel your face’ part.”Rose grimaces and drops the ball back into the snow. “What a wimp.”





	and while the moon drifts in the skies

**Author's Note:**

> for this year's tales secret santa, i was assigned [@artpharos](http://artpharos.tumblr.com/)! i'm grateful to have been a part of this exchange, and i really hope you will enjoy this fic ヾ(❀╹◡╹)ﾉﾞ

Temperatures drop well below zero during the winter. Ladylake is nestled between mountains, after all, and the breeze that blows through the city is frigid, like a wind seraph is taking out their own personal grudge on its inhabitants.

At night the cold becomes nearly unbearable, the chill inescapable except by staying indoors, curled up next to a hearth for warmth. Once the sun goes down, the houses dotting the streets flare to life, the windows filled with vibrant light from the fires inside; even the curtains can’t quite hide the brilliance.

Ladylake is empty tonight. Just like every other day since temperatures started falling, the city has become quiet, the gentle snowfall that passed in the early evening untouched by even the lightest footprint. It’s peaceful, a haven among an otherwise bustling city. It’s a hidden gem that can only be experienced by those who are strong enough—or dumb enough—to brave the midnight cold.

Rose likes to think she falls into the first category of people.

The silent night is broken by the crunch of snow as Rose pulls Alisha through the gardens surrounding her home.

She can feel Alisha trembling through the thick gloves that separate their hands, and yet neither of them slow down, neither complain about the frigid air penetrating the clothing they’ve layered around their shoulders. Though her nose is pink and her cheeks are flushed, Alisha wears a bright smile, never once looking away from Rose’s face.

In the inky blackness of midnight, Rose can’t see the colors in Alisha’s eyes, but she can imagine them as vividly as if they were standing in the sun.

“Where are we going?” Alisha asks finally. The question takes Rose by surprise, not because it’s unexpected, but because she didn’t think Alisha’s self-restraint would hold out so long. She thought she’d have been drilled with questions from the moment she shook her awake: when she pulled the heavy blankets off of Alisha long after she’d fallen asleep, when she’d dropped coats onto her with the order to get up, when she dragged her out of the bed and through the empty halls of her manor, when she pulled her out the door into the biting wind.

And yet, Alisha never once asked a question.

Rose would think that’s just the resolve of a princess, or perhaps the resolve of a knight, but she knows better. She knows how curious Alisha is, how adamant and strong-willed and desperate to learn. And so she chalks it up to a matter of trust. The very concept of it has a fuzzy warm feeling blooming in her chest, which is nice because her entire body is numb from the cold air.

“Right here,” Rose says, stopping in the middle of the yard. There’s a soft blanket of snow covering the dead grass underneath, a blank canvas of white. It’s beautiful, and Rose can’t wait to destroy it.

Alisha cocks her head to the side, her eyebrows pinching even though her smile never drops. “What? Here?”

Rose nods and, instead of explaining herself because that would be too many words for something so simple, crouches down, gathering a chunk of snow in her hands.

“Oh! A snowball fight!” she exclaims, dropping down to the ground with all the fervor and determination of a knight, ready to do battle at a moment’s notice.

Rose’s groan turns into a giggle and she places her hands around Alisha’s to stop her. “No, it’s not a snowball fight. For a princess, you jump to violence way too quickly.”

“I’m not _just_ a princess,” Alisha corrects. “And snowball fights aren’t violent.”

“Right, right.” She doesn’t bother correcting her, even though she’s positive that Alisha would go as hard as possible in a snowball fight and probably lead to at least a few injuries. She’s just that kind of person: hardworking, sincere, literal to a fault. “It’s still not a snowball fight. Every winter, the Sparrowfeathers builds a huge snowman in our hideout. Of course, we made sure that no one would see if because really, that’d be the worst way to be found out. Can you imagine? Being outed as a band of assassins because some random passerby saw our snowman? Yikes.”

Alisha nods along slowly, graciously letting Rose ramble even if she clearly thinks it’s a little weird. Rose appreciates that.

“Anyway, since I’m spending the solstice with you, I couldn’t help build our snowman. Eguille probably put the hat on its head, too.” Her nose wrinkles and her lip sticks out in a pout as she envisions Eguille taking _her_ job from her. Just because she wasn’t physically present and was therefore incapable of putting the hat on the snowman _doesn’t_ mean he should be allowed to do it in her place. That’s just basic etiquette.

“So you wanted to build one of our own,” Alisha guesses.

Rose nods, her girlfriend’s gentle voice pulling her from her inner rant. “Exactly! And then we’ll show Eguille and the others that ours is _way_ better, and they’ll be so jealous. Sounds fun, right?”

Alisha’s mouth falls open, but it takes her a moment longer to respond. “...It does, yes, but why are we doing it now?” She gestures vaguely around the yard.

“What do you mean?”

Alisha takes in a breath and rephrases. “Why did you wake me up at midnight to build a snowman?”

“Oh! That’s because this is the best time to build it,” she explains, crossing her arms over her chest and nodding, a note of finality in her tone. “If you do it at night no one can see you, and all the snow is fresh.”

“I suppose it makes sense that you’d usually build your snowmen at night, since you have to work covertly,” Alisha says with a sigh. “But I think we could have waited until the morning this time. It’s not like we’re in danger of being discovered.”

Rose packs more snow onto the ball until it’s big enough to start rolling it. _“Bzzt!_ Wrong! The middle of the night is _always_ the best time to build a snowman. There’s no one around to bug you, it’s so cold you can’t feel your face, the snow is still falling, what’s not to love?”

Alisha bites her lip. “The ‘it’s so cold you can’t feel your face’ part.”

Rose grimaces and drops the ball back into the snow. “What a wimp.”

“I’m not a wimp!” Alisha protests, and Rose can’t tell if the pink on her cheeks is because she’s angry, because she’s cold, or because she’s embarrassed. Maybe it’s a little bit of all three. “Fine, let’s make your snowman.”

Without hesitating, she bends over and starts to roll the snowball across the yard, making sure to cover it in as much snow as she can. Rose watches intently instead of starting on the next ball because she can’t quite figure out how Alisha is so meticulous.

She treks up and down the yard in perfect lines, cutting so close that there isn’t a dot of snow left on the ground after she’s gone through. It’s mesmerizing in the same way watching someone knead dough is, rhythmic and captivating, and Rose can’t seem to tear her eyes away from her bouncing ponytail or her coats fluttering around her. She’s effortlessly elegant, effortlessly perfect, and Rose smiles to herself as she watches her.

Then Alisha’s head swivels around and there’s a sharp look on her face. “What are you doing? I can’t make this snowman all on my own! Start on the next ball!”

Rose gasps and nearly falls backward. “Ah—! Right, sorry!”

She scrambles for enough snow to pack together before dropping it back onto the ground and rolling it herself. But her lines are jagged and criss-cross every which way, no rhyme or reason to her method.

If Rose cared enough about imagery and symbolism, she might be able to pull a decent metaphor out of her ass to describe the differences between her and Alisha. But she was never great at school and she still hates reading, so she discards that thought and continues carelessly rolling the ball until it’s big enough to settle on top of the base.

Alisha’s ball is done and already carefully placed in the dead center of the yard, and Rose doesn’t have the heart to question how she managed that without any kind of tools when they’re both still half asleep. So instead she takes her own snowball and rolls it so it’s sitting right next to the base like a parent and child, if snow actually understood the concept of family.

“Help me with this.” Rose bends over and lifts the ball, grunting when it’s just a little too heavy, and rolls it up the base, eagerly taking the brunt of the weight so that Alisha doesn’t have to wear herself out.

Not that she can’t handle it, of course she can, but it lets Rose knock out two birds with one stone in that she’s able to show off her own strength while also pampering Alisha, which is, of course, her favorite hobby.

Rose keeps lifting even after Alisha lets go and swings around to the other side to help position the ball on top of the first, and when they both finally let go she heaves out a sigh and drops to the ground, wet snow already seeping through her pants and chilling her legs.

“One more,” she says, holding up a finger. But Alisha is already gathering the snow, rolling it in a tight spiral around her, a less rigid pattern now that Rose has destroyed the white blanket with her own ball.

“I’ve never done this before,” Alisha says as she finishes up the head. It might be a little big for the rest of the body, but Rose was never one to care about perfection anyway.

“You’ve never built a snowman?” Rose chews on the inside of her cheek as she watches, wondering how Alisha could do all of this so naturally if it’s only her first time. Not that building snowmen requires a high level of specialized skills or anything, but still.

Alisha shakes her head. “Playing outside was frowned upon when I still lived in the castle, and while I was training with the knights we didn’t have a lot of downtime to mess around.”

Rose’s cheeks puff out as she blows out, intently watching her breath. “That must have sucked.”

“Oh, no!” Alisha shakes her head fervently and hoists the head into her arms. Rose clambers back up so she can help fix it on top of the body. “My childhood was nothing but privileged, and training with the knights was like a dream. I’m grateful for the opportunities I’ve had.”

“But you’ve never built a snowman.”

Alisha peeks around from behind the snowman’s head, a toothy grin on her face. “I still get to try new things and have new experiences. And because of my past, my first time building a snowman was with you. I wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Wow, that’s…” Rose scratches the back of her neck and grimaces when some melting ice slides down her neck. “...mushy.”

Alisha giggles. “I suppose it is.”

Instead of pulling Alisha into a kiss that would probably result in their lips getting frozen together, she steps back to admire the snowman, still devoid of life or personality. “Give me your hat.”

Alisha instinctively reaches up to protect the hat. “Huh? No!”

“But the snowman needs to be warm.” There’s the barest hint of a whine in her voice, but it’s lighthearted enough that Alisha smiles in return.

“Snowmen don’t have nerve endings; they can’t feel the cold.”

Rose gasps and smushes her hands over the spots where she guesses the snowman’s ears would be, if it had any. “Don’t say that! You’ll hurt its feelings.”

Alisha presses a gloved hand to her mouth to hide her giggles. “Oh, I’m sorry. Please forgive me, dear snowman.”

“It’ll forgive you if you give up your hat,” Rose says because the snowman doesn’t have a mouth yet so it can’t exactly speak for itself.

“Why not use yours?” Alisha reaches out and tugs on Rose’s hat for good measure.

A pained groan slips out from between Rose’s lips. “I’ll die.”

“So will I.”

A beat of silence, and then Rose gives up because she always knew she would. _“Fine,_ I get it. I’ll use my hat.” But not without making a show of it.

She takes her hat off and settles it on the snowman’s head, feeling the sudden breeze rustle her hair. She probably has a nasty case of hat hair, but it’s not like she cares, and she knows Alisha doesn’t either.

She frowns at the snowman wearing her hat and nothing else. “Go get some rocks for its mouth,” she instructs, and then she unwraps her scarf and pulls it around the snowman’s neck, too, because the snowman will probably freeze to death if they leave it out overnight with no other protection than a hat. Plus, it looks cuter this way.

The crunch of what snow is left lets Rose know Alisha’s returned, and when she spins around to greet her she’s met with a massive pile of rocks, all varying in size. “Is this enough?”

Rose snorts, trying her best to hold back her laughter. “Plenty.”

Alisha breathes out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good, I wasn’t sure.”

Rose grabs the smallest pebbles from the top of the pile and fixes them on the snowman’s head to resemble a smile, then takes a few of the larger ones, careful not to disturb the precarious balance of the pile, and pushes them into the belly. Two medium-sized rocks for the eyes, and a smaller one for the nose since she hadn’t even thought to bring a carrot, and she steps back to admire her work.

“It’s kinda traditional, nothing fancy,” Rose laments, her brow furrowing as she examines it.

“It looks nice,” Alisha comforts, setting down the rocks at the base of the snowman so her hands are free to wrap around Rose’s waist.

“Oh, yeah, for sure. Eguille’s gonna eat shit when he sees this!” she boasts with a laugh, hands on her hips in a triumphant pose. “The twins, too. That’ll teach them for making a snowman without me.”

She can feel Alisha nod in the crook of her neck. “Is that so.” Her voice is muffled with all the fabric pressed against her mouth.

“Absolutely!” Her hands fall from her waist to hold Alisha’s arms, pulling her closer so that they’re snuggling. The romantic gesture also helps keep Rose a little warmer, which also makes it a utilitarian success.

And then Alisha pulls away with a little gasp and the aforementioned success becomes both a utilitarian and romantic failure. A shame, she laments as she shivers in the cold air that bites against her where Alisha once was.

“It doesn’t have arms!” Alisha exclaims, totally blind to Rose’s suffering.

Rose forgets all about the cold when she realizes that Alisha’s right. “Find some branches! We’ll use them.”

Alisha nods and darts off, the night swallowing her whole before she makes it even five steps away. Rose spins around too, looking for fallen branches that haven’t yet been covered by the snow. She has to squint until her head hurts, but there’s one laying at the base of a nearby tree, and she rushes to procure it.

Alisha returns with a branch of her own, long and spindly and curving downward. It’s too different from Rose’s which is straight and hard, sturdy like a snowman arm should be.

Alisha frowns down at her branch, then looks over at Rose’s, then back to her own. “They don’t match.”

“They’re perfect,” Rose quickly assures her, shoving her branch deep into the snowman’s side and grabbing Alisha’s. “No one said snowmen had to be symmetrical.”

With both arms in place, they step back to look at their creation. “It hardly looks like an arm at all,” Alisha laments.

Rose shuffles closer to her, both in an attempt to comfort her and to soak up some of her warmth. “It looks fine.” And she’s not lying. It’s weird, but the limp branch brushing against the snow as the wind blows seems fitting, even if it doesn’t quite look like an arm.

“Are you sure?” It’s not a sad or disparaging sort of tone, but one of confusion, like Alisha truly can’t comprehend Rose’s reassurance. Which is, well, fair, since Rose can’t understand it herself.

But then again, everything Alisha does is perfect, even if it’s weird.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Then we should go back to bed,” Alisha says suddenly. “If we’re done with the snowman, that is.”

Rose is reminded that the tips of her ears sting and her face is numb, and the night feels much colder than it did two seconds ago. “Right. Yeah. Let’s go.”

They don’t waste time getting back inside, but Rose spares a glance back over her shoulder at their snowman, weird and unrefined and yet still eye-catching and fashionable.

She’s glad that Alisha’s first time building a snowman was with her, too.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/polythagoras) or [tumblr](http://ednae.tumblr.com/) °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°
> 
> thank you for reading!


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